


Clover

by Hopetohell



Category: Enola Holmes (2020), Enola Holmes - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: In the language of flowers, three-leaf clover signifies submission. It’s a precious gift you give him, and he values it highly.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	Clover

He will breathe you in deep, the smell of meadow grass bright on your clothes, little bits of hay and spring flowers caught in your hair. He’ll see the three-leaf clover you tucked behind your ear and though it’s wilted now he gets the point. He breathes against your lips just for a moment, leaning down to cage you in the warmth of his body. 

“Clover for submission, dearest, isn’t that right? I’m so glad you’ve remembered your lessons. Can you show me what else you remember?”

It takes a long moment for your body to catch up to what your brain wants, before you move to peel the clothes from your body and fold them neatly— _always neatly, darling, show some care_ — to slide his coat off his shoulders and help him roll his sleeves to the elbow. It’s a familiar set of movements, a transition where he still gives you time to step back, to speak to Sherlock the friend, Sherlock the gentlest of lovers, to pull back from this if you really wanted to. It gives you time to decide that what you really want is to softly call him _Sir_ as you’re sinking to your knees. 

And he is so tremendously pleased with that, with the way you remember to place your hands flat against your thighs and look up at him in rapt attention. It sends a spreading warmth through you to see the half-smile that slides across his face, to see his hand rake through his curls as he considers you. “I think,” he says, voice deep and already rough with lust, “I think I’d like to take your mouth today.” 

He’s gentle as always when he opens his flies to free himself, when he lifts your head with one hand under your chin. And you can read him, too; you can feel the delicate tremble in his fingers that is so at odds with the strength in his hands. It belies just how much he’s affected by this, how much he struggles to keep himself controlled. 

When he slides the head of that gorgeous thick cock across your cheek you turn your head to chase it almost unconsciously, and _oh_ that draws a chuckle from him, right before he draws back to slap it gently across your cheek. It’s strange, and somehow a little humiliating, to be hit in the face with his cock but something about it draws a gasp from you, a sound that he captures in his mind and adds to his collection of things that make you weak for him. 

His hand is back on your chin, a barely-there pressure that reminds you to be still for him, not to seek his touch but to accept it. And it pleases him so, how your lips part to take him in, how your tongue curls along the thick vein. And he is so very careful, his voice gentle and low as he directs your movement. _A little more, there, just like that. Oh darling, bring your hand up, that’s right, don't try to take it all._ And you would choke for him if he asked it, but today, at least, he wants only to see the way you fall into the gentle rhythm of this, of the careful slide of his cock, of the hand that pets gently through your hair. 

“One day,” he says, and now his control is truly fraying, “one day I’ll really _use_ you, dearest. When you’re ready. When you beg it of me. But not today.” 

And he is close, so close; when he speaks he pulses along your tongue in time to the words, and it reveals how very much he wants to dismantle you completely. Flesh can’t lie, not like this, not when a handful of careful thrusts have him spilling into your mouth, hot and bitter. 

And it’s almost ritualistic, the way he draws you up to him, the way he kisses you to taste his seed on your tongue, the way he breathes the words against your lips. “Your submission is a gift, my darling. Thank you. And well done.”


End file.
